PAINTING makes me feel good. It's a cleansing
whenever I come into the studio. It's sort of going down deep inside of
myself and finding those things in my guts that are a bit of a weight,
those negative emotions that may be bothering me. I find it's great for
my self-esteem. I feel I have to paint or do artwork. If I don't do artwork
for three or four days, I start to slide down into a slump. Going back
to the studio, it just makes me feel better. I realize who I am, where
I am, why I'm here.

It's also the journey. I might do one
type of painting, and then try to do that type of painting again. It felt
great the first time, but if I try to do the same thing, I don't get much
out of it. I realize that I'm just trying to go on the same journey that
I've already been on. Each time I try to take it from a slightly different
perspective or vantage point.

I try not to think too much when I paint.
I try not to concentrate logically. I find when I do that, I get stuck.
I don't have to understand why I'm doing all this. I try to listen very
carefully to what my subconscious is saying; the first thought that comes
to our heads.

But often with that first thought we start
to ask questions right away. The colour blue might flash through my head,
but then I might start to ask, "What about the blue? Would the blue
work or will it not work?" When I start to ask those questions, that's
when I'm going off track. So I just try to not ask any of those questions
and just listen to that subconscious message without questioning it. Just
do it. And it seems to always work.

I went to Japan just last summer and when
I was there, I all of a sudden started to do abstract work. I had tried
to do it before, but I just couldn't seem to feel a connection with abstract
work. But in Japan I suddenly did feel a connection. Now that I'm back
in Fredericton, I'm still working with realistic imagery, but I'm integrating
things in more of an abstract way. The things that I'm putting in my paintings
are not necessarily all in the same environment. I'm throwing things together
that don't make sense at first.

I used to label my style as expressionism.
I suppose I could still call it that, but I think it's more gestural work.
When I paint, I usually try to jump right into the painting with a lot
of energy. In a way I can compare it perhaps to dancing dash; and almost
a karate type of approach. When I am putting a brush stroke down it is
very spontaneous, because I just have to subconsciously listen and react
to what I hear. Bang, the brush stroke is down before I realize why. There's
a lot of action and gesture.

I allow my body to move around. I can't
paint with two feet on the floor. I find by letting my feet move around,
like a tap dance, that keeps the energy flowing freely and makes it so
much easier and more spontaneous putting the brush strokes down. When
I put a brush stroke down I start to get a feeling back. I'll be giving
a lot of vocal sounds. I do that because my body needs to, it has to.
By using my voice at times, it'll free the tension.

When I started working more with my emotions
dash; just putting my true gut emotions into my work dash; it was
like opening up a water valve, letting all my frustrations and things
that I had been suppressing for a long time come out. It was scary, but
it was a great feeling. I try to stay in touch with how I'm feeling, even
if the feelings are not so good. Not to treat them like they're an alien
from outer space. My feelings are me. I can deny them and pretend they
are not there, or I can say "Okay feelings, let's chat and see if
we can work something out here." I take those negative feelings and
turn them into positive energy.

In my work I like to always leave one
part of it sort of unanswered. I look at it and I don't understand why.
When we wake up in the morning there are always questions going through
our heads, constantly bombarding us. I don't like a painting in which
everything can be explained afterward. That's daily life, isn't it?

Most of the response that I have gotten
I have been happy with. I'm not sure if everyone understands my work.
In fact I don't think even I understand some of my work entirely. But
people seem to like the energy that goes into the work.

The way that I work might appear to be
harsh, vigorous and angry with many emotions. It's not like working this
way makes me feel like I'm down in the dumps. It's completely the opposite.
Working this way takes all these down-in-the-dumps feelings and lets them
loose and puts them into the piece. After creating a good painting I truly
feel 100 per cent on top of the world. Perhaps for three to five minutes,
then it goes down to 98 per cent, then to 85 per cent, and a few days
later down to 65 per cent.

At my upcoming show at the Beaverbrook
Art Gallery in Fredericton, it's going to be three pieces. Primarily it's
these large wooden paintings that I've been working on for two years now.
It's 114 feet [34 meters] in length, nine feet [3 meters] in height. When
I started it originally I was doing three paintings, and I decided to
take them and merge them into one larger painting. It will take up three
walls in the McCain Gallery. The opening is on the 30th of January and
it runs until April.

My main goal is to get my work into larger
cities, larger urban areas, and to get showings in some good art galleries
I'm really striving towards my work being shown in the National Gallery
of Canada. That's what I would like to happen. I'd like to be able to
survive on my artwork. That's happening right now, but I still have to
do tutorials and teaching on the side. I hope down the line to make enough
to survive comfortably. I've sold a bit here in Fredericton, but I think
my artwork is not quite what the general people like around here. I'm
willing to accept that. That's why I'm trying to find other places than
just here to show my work.

There are some artists who say they don't
care if their work is shown. The way that I create my artwork is an expression
of myself and I don't just want to express myself to a mirror. When I'm
in the studio I want to be as honest as possible, to express what I see
as the truth. Rut who am I expressing it to? Myself, partly, but at the
same time I would like other people to look at it and take it in.

I started teaching when I was up in Montreal,
a course in expressionism, the artwork that I was familiar with. When
I got back to Fredericton, I was doing some tutorials and the College
of Craft and Design came and asked me if I wanted to teach a day course
there. That was a very nice offer, so I took it.

I enjoy teaching. Being able to put across
my own view of art and to get the feedback from students. To see how they
react to what I say and to what they create. At the end of the class we
talk about the artwork they created and the really neat thing is the way
they arc individually expressing themselves. That true inner self is what
I like to see in artwork. I'm not much of a talker outside. I'm not a
very social person. But when it's in the classroom I get a chance to talk
about something that I know and enjoy. It's a nice interaction.

I have students who say, "I can't
do art. I don't know how to paint." In the course I'm teaching, I'm
trying to help students take down a lot of the stereotypes they've taken
in about what art is. A lot of us think that art is knowing bow to mix
colours knowing perspective and proportion. Those are helpful basic tools
in art. Creativity is different. If you learn all those basic tools it
doesn't mean you can create. Creativity is more about finding a truth
that's in your life, or that's around you or inside you. I think for most
of us the truth is hidden deep in our gut.

When people say they can't create, I don't
believe them. If they can do something where they get some positive feeling
back, even if they put a brush stroke down or two and they laugh at it.
Isn't that good? They got something back. To me that's creating something.

Optimism. I used to not know what that
word meant. To me, optimism is very important when it comes to creating.
For many years I beard the word, but it wasn't until I was in Montreal
that I realized what it meant. One day I was feeling down in the dumps.
I felt like there were a lot of clouds over me. As I was going over to
the laundromat, I looked down and saw this leaf on the ground. And ail
of a sudden I got this feeling "Wow. Look at that! isn't it so nice!"

What I liked about the leaf was its colour.
Then I started looking around for other colours. And suddenly I was feeling
so much better, felt power coming into me again. I realized that optimism
is not something that comes to you magically, it's something you have
to look for. When it comes to creating art, I try to encourage people
to look at their so-called mistakes from an optimistic point of view.
You can either make a so-called mistake and start over again, or you can
look at the mistake and then zoom in on it. This is a so-called mistake;
however is there something that I like about it? That's where optimism
comes in. Finding that positive element.

Some people see doing art as a way to
find a style. People ask me if I've found my style yet, and my answer
is no. I know when I'm going to find my style, and that's going to be
in the last painting that I do before I die. I don't like to look at my
own work as a style. Each piece has to be a different journey, going a
bit farther. The rest of my life is going to be a journey, until finally,
the last piece that I do before I die, people can look at that one and
say "Ah, so this is where Philip has finally found himself."